


Leaving Kansas Behind

by genagirl



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genagirl/pseuds/genagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair goes to see the Wizard of Oz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaving Kansas Behind

**Author's Note:**

> I have almost always written humor in the fandoms I've become obsessed with. The Sentinel doesn't seem to lend itself to the humorous (except for Ninjababe's wonderfully warped series) as well for me. I just wanted to see what I could do with them. Warnings: Weird. Too much Pepsi and late night TV. Heed this to all who follow my path.

## Leaving Kansas Behind

by Gena

Author's disclaimer: No characters were harmed in the writing of this piece of... fiction. Jim, Blair, and the rest of the Sentinel's characters belong to PetFly. The Wizard of Oz characters belong to MGM, I guess. I made no money from this and I have none of my own, so don't sue me. 

* * *

"Mr. Sandburg," the tone held just a trace of condescension, not enough to be blatantly rude but just enough to convey to Blair that the speaker was not only higher on the evolutionary scale but also drove a Jaguar, "your theories, while...quaint...are not substantiated by the evidence." The discussion swept on, a babble of voices drowning out Sandburg as he began to refute Dr. Gulch's claim. He attempted to regain the floor with logic and calm rationality and when that failed, Blair stomped from the room to his own office. 

"What the hell's the use," Blair muttered to himself, stuffing his books into his backpack. "I set out the facts, I tie them together with a bow and he still can't admit I'm right." He continued muttering to himself, advising the world at large and the empty chairs in particular that some people were pompous wind bags who had it in for the younger and smarter generation. It had been a sucky week, it fact it had been a Mick-Jagger-kiss-of-life type of week and at the moment he pretty much hated everything about his life. "Why do I try?" he asked a startled student who happened to be passing through the hallway at that exact moment, but the kid didn't know, in fact he really didn't seem to care that he might possess the answer to a question which had plagued Blair Sandburg for the last ten years. "No one cares. I should just pack up and blow this pop stand. There's got to be a place, somewhere where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops....." 

The weather had also sucked for three weeks, drizzling on Cascade in an endless mist which sapped the life spirit from it's inhabitants. The whole world seemed painted in black, white and shades of gray, cold and flat as Kansas in November. Blair stepped out into the bitter, miserable day and shivered; the skies had opened, pelting those foolhardy enough to venture outside with a frigid substance which clung to everything especially people out in it. He'd cadged a ride from Jim that morning, having to endure the detective's endless litany of his household sins and now he'd either have to catch the bus or break down and beg his roommate to come and get him. "What the hell," Blair muttered, "all he can do is gripe." And with that he pulled out the cell phone and dialed. 

The connection popped and hummed like a Slim Whitman album played backwards, static blasting his ear as Blair struggled to make out the sounds coming from the other end. Had that been Jim answering? "Jim?" He called, but the answering collection of noises didn't really sound human. Not that Ellison always did, but usually more human than that. "Jim? Can you hear me?" 

"Bl.......station......mur..der......." And then the line went dead. Sandburg stood there, rain soaking his clothing and pouring down his cheeks, just staring at the phone in his hand. Had Jim just told him there was a murder at the station? He had to get there, he had to get to Jim. That thought the only one in his head, Blair took off at a dead run. Tornadic force winds, blowing, whirling, and just generally doing violent wind-like things, whipped around the corner and converged on the one person in the universe or at least the university, stupid enough to be standing in the open. Blair clutched his backpack closer and shoved a futile hand into the living entity which had only moments ago been his hair but it slapped him in the eyes for being so familiar, bringing about his downfall. Down fall off the curb, that is. Blair put out a hand to stop himself from crashing face first to the sidewalk but as Luck, Fate, and the lousy campus maintenance would have it, he hit a patch of ice, went skidding out of control, slammed into a railing and flipped over it. His first thought of I'm flying! was quickly replaced by the thought I'm plummeting towards the earth in a manner which will insure certain death! Knowing that his entire life would pass before his eyes in a split second, Sandburg felt somewhat cheated when the images wavered about age 15 and completely faded just before age 20. 

Arms flailing, Sandburg slammed down to the ground with a resounding thud and his cell phone took off like some kind of Japanese rocket in a Johnny Sokko movie. It was some time before he prided open his eyes and when he did, he promptly shut them again. 

"Okay, Sandburg," Blair whispered to himself, hoping formality would bring some kind of logic to his world, "when you open your eyes, everything will be normal again." He waited an extra five seconds, giving whatever fairies or gremlins who had been responsible for his first hallucination, time to rush around behind the scenes and get everything in its correct place again. This time, when his eyes slowly opened, the gremlins or fairies...or dwarfs were still there, though they weren't rushing. "Concussion?" He wondered, "maybe some kind of hemorrhage?" But the midget dressed in a cute green suit, refused to confirm or deny his assumptions. 

"Are you a good wizard or a bad wizard?" The small apparition asked. To the stupefied man lying prone upon the sidewalk, the world seemed to have erupted in a riot of dazzling color, gone was the black and white landscape of Cascade, supplanted by brilliant hues in an alien world. Sandburg continued to stare in stunned silence as the little man turned to his companions, men and women of equally diminutive stature, and shrugged. None of them stood more than three feet tall and all of them were dressed in the most bizarre costumes; velvet suits, hats and shoes growing live flowers, uniforms that looked like they'd been ripped off from some poor marching band in the midwest, dainty pink ballerinas in pointy hats. Any and all of it could have been pulled from Moesha, Brandy, or Buffy the Vampire Slayer's closets. Blair frantically searched his amazing memory but couldn't come up with any campus groups to explain it. The Drama Club was taller, the Gay and Lesbian Organization dressed better, and the Christian Fellowship didn't have that good a sense of humor. That left major brain damage as the only viable solution. Oh well, at least his deductible had been paid this month, there was something to be said for being shot by terrorists out to dominate the world. 

"Excuse me," Sandburg said, proud that his voice didn't come out in the shrill, panic filled scream he heard inside his head, "could you call an ambulance. I think I'm having some kind of a seizure or something." 

His words had a great effect on the assembled group; they laughed...well, actually  
they giggled. Sandburg pushed himself to his knees and glared at the people peering at him. Three men in spiffy green velvet suits, red and white stripped hose and shoes which curled up at the toes stepped forward with great big lollipops, offering him the gratitude of the Lollipop Guild and a huge sucker. Taught never to be rude when faced with a new situation, Blair accepted the gift and again requested immediate medical attention. "Really," he urged, "I can feel my brain swelling inside my skull." A movement at the back of the crowd turned out to be three small ballerinas proudly exclaiming their allegiance to the Lullaby League and they were followed by a queer, as in peculiar, sight; Dan Wolf, Cascade's chief coroner dressed in a flowing black coat, wide brimmed hat and carrying a scroll which he unrolled and began to sing...yes, sing. 

"I have thoroughly examined the Pernicious Programmer of the West and I can assure you he's not merely dead, he's really quite sincerely dead." With that, Wolf produced a huge Certificate of Death for Blair's inspection. Appalled, more by Dan's singing voice than anything, Blair stood dumbly by as those gathered pronounced him a hero and the savior of Munchkinland. They seemed thrilled, so grateful that he'd done whatever it was they thought he'd done and rushed forward to press him with tribute. The sight of so many strangely dressed small people, shrieking at him brought back horrifying flashbacks from kindergarten, a time Blair would rather not relive, making Sandburg backed away. He would have kept backing away at light speed until he managed to turn time back like Superman had done in Superman 2 or was that 3? but he never got the chance. 

"As Mayor of Munchkinland," an authoritative voice somewhere near the vicinity of his knees informed him, "and on behalf of our citizens, I would like to thank you for disposing of him in such an effective manner." 

"Oh god," Blair muttered, "I've dropped a house on someone!" 

The assembly looked mildly disgusted at the thought and the Mayor hastened to  
assure Munchkinland's savior that he hadn't dropped a house on anyone. "No," the Mayor proclaimed loudly, "you shattered his skull with your backpack!" Blair followed the line of the man's arm and sure enough his backpack, the one which held not only his laptop, but his textbooks, the outline of his thesis, a can of Pepsi and three Snickers bars, covered the cranium of a small man still clutching a bright red notebook. 

"Villianous Valentine, The Pernicious Programmer of the West was a tyrant," muttered one of the Munchkins, "he enslaved the Munchkins, compelling us to toil for his benefit. If we fell short of his expectations, and believe me as Munchkins we couldn't help it, he punished us by forcing us to stare for hours at a box which projected the most hideous of images!" A collective shiver rocked the little people and Blair, himself, winched in sympathy, "but those days are over!" A rousing song sprang up, spontaneously, among the small folk with quaint verses like "death to tyrants, curse their souls, poke out their eyes, and burn them on coals" and the inspiring "ding dong, ring a bell, the Programmer's dead and rotting in hell!" 

"Well, that's l-lovely," Sandburg stammered, "but I have to get to my partern. He's in trouble and I'm his backup." He cast a look around, noticing for the first time he was no longer in Cascade. Well, that's not entirely true; the singing Munchkins had kind of clued him in to the fact he wasn't in Cascade anymore. In fact, it didn't look like any city in Washington....or the US...it looked a hell of a lot like....like he had definitely suffered some kind of blunt trauma to his brain. There were giant flowers everywhere, and vines curling around thatched roofed cottages. Everything was clean and neat and almost Canadian in appearance. "Where the hell......" he began but a glowing pink ball appeared on the horizon and steadily grew larger the nearer it got. 

Sandburg could only stand rooted to the spot as the pink globe settled gently to the ground and Megan Connor materialized. "Megan!" he shouted and threw himself at the one island of sanity, clutching the knees of reason with both hands, metaphorically speaking. "Oh, Megan, I am so glad to see you! You would not believe the hallucinations I've been having," though he neglected to mention he was still having one. 

Megan giggled, "I'm Megan the Exchange Witch from Down Under." She had changed from her pink dingo ensemble to something far more alarming; pink taffeta. Wave after wave of frilly, pink cascaded from her shoulders to her ankles, sparkling with rhinestones and topped with a tiara which he could have sworn proclaimed her Miss Aussie Buck-Naked 1997. "The Munchkins wish to gift you with your heart's desire," she held up a wand and winked. "What will it be, Sandy?" she leaned close, her voice pitched only for his ear, "I can grant you a night which will make you smile for fifteen years." 

Still trying to wipe that image from his mind, Blair asked for the only thing that mattered to him, "I want to find Jim!" 

"I'm sorry," Megan said with a shrug, "I can't return you to your world." 

"But, he needs..." 

"I'm here on the Exchange Witch program," she admitted with a sigh, "You could try faxing, calling and writing letters but it's never been proven the Ulcerous Pretentious Nitwit who controls these things can read. The best way," Megan continued, "is to follow the Yellow Brick Road and talk to the Mighty Jox.....sorry, wrong person. Talk to the Great and Mighty Wizard of Oz himself." She waved her wand and the gathered Munchkins parted to reveal, oddly enough, a road made of bricks painted yellow. These Munchkins seemed to be very literal. "You must journey to the Emerald City if you wish to be reunited with your Sentinel." 

"But...," Blair tried one last appeal, but before he even got the first whine out there was another puff of smoke, this one large enough and noxious enough to cause the EPA to become involved, and a hideous figure popped into sight. 

She wore a shimmery catsuit so tight it must have been ripped off a mere kitten, her breasts glittering like the headlights on a '57 Chevy, and funky beauty spots Cindy Crawford could only dream about. Pure evil, the woman approached the spot where Blair stood open mouthed. "Who's that?" Sandburg whispered. 

Megan looked down at her rather unflattering attire then over at the slinky figure. In the blink of an eye her pink fru-fru gown had changed into tight black leggings topped with a scoop neck blouse of electric blue, her cleavage a gravity defying achievement as she tottered on three inch heels. This time when her gaze lit upon the stranger it held disdain and a hint of self satisfaction. "That's Demographia," Megan explained. "She and the Pernicious Programmer had a thing going." 

"Who killed Valentine?" Demographia demanded, her bosom heaving in a manner which threatened to break seams and poke out eyes. She whirled and advanced on Sandburg and the Exchange Witch. "Was it you?" Her laser like gaze pinned Sandburg, "did you kill my Stud Muffin?" Blair heard the tribe of Munchkins making retching noises in the background and assumed VV hadn't been quite the Bladwin Demographia seemed to think him. 

"Look, Demographia.....," Blair began but Megan stopped him by asking the villianess a question. 

"Aren't you forgetting the Ruby Notebook?" 

Demographia's features twisted, unbridled lust radiated from her eyes but then she tore her gaze from Blair's lips, leaving him feeling only slightly violated, and rushed back to the crumpled figure. When she reached Villainous Valentine's side the thick red notebook clutched in his cold, dead hands disappeared. Sandburg staggered under the ponderous weight as it magically appeared in his arms. The red leather had several words stamped in gold and he could just barely make out How to Bribe a Nielson Family before Demographia began to scream. 

"Give it back!" The siren wailed, "I'm the only one who can use it! Give it back!" 

"Must be important," Megan whispered, "keep it with you at all times." She waved a dismissive hand at the woman, "you have no power here, Demographia, begone before someone cracks your skull with a backpack." Darting a terrified glance in all directions, the evil woman shook a fist at Sandburg. 

"I'll get you, my guppy. You haven't heard the last of Demographia!" And with that she disappeared in a shimmering beam of pure energy. 

"You've made a nasty enemy there," Megan told Sandburg, "she has a ghastly army of males 18 - 34. You must leave Oz at once." 

"But how can I get back to Cascade," Blair asked. 

"You must go and see the Wizard of Oz," Megan said with a firm shake of her dark hair. "The All Powerful Wizard will know how to get you back to Cascade." 

Clutching the notebook to his chest and praying he wasn't really lying in some hospital bed hooked to a million machines, unless Jim was sitting there unkempt and pale and holding his hand in a tender yet manly way, Blair set off down the Yellow Brick Road. The Munchkins followed, waving and calling good-bye even as they sang a catchy little tune. *Follow the Yellow Brick Road!* He walked slowly, placing one foot carefully before the other, but he could feel it welling up from between the shiny bricks, infusing his feet with happy rhythm. A feeling, some overwhelming compulsion hit him and before he knew it he was - he was SKIPPING! Not walking. Not sauntering in a cool, confident manner. No, he was skipping like a school boy on the last day of May. 

He tossed a final wave at the little people and skipped off down the road. The sun shown down on him, warming his face and changing his mood to a more solar disposition. Blair had gone about a mile when he spotted a familiar figure hanging from a post in the middle of a corn field. "Rafe? Rafe, is that you?" Dressed in a spotless Armani suit, his shoes shining like mirrors, his tie perfect, the handsome detective looked oddly out of place. "What the hell are you doing?" 

"I'm undercover," Rafe admitted. "The Captain is trying to bust a bunch of crows  
stealing corn. Henri and I are suppose to take turns hanging around here," he glared at a huge black bird which settled on his shoulder. Sandburg blinked in surprise, the crow grinned at him and when he cawed Blair could have sworn it sounded like "hairboy". 

"Please, Jim," he murmured, "if you're listening, just pull the plug, buddy." He stumbled passed the two detectives, closing his ears to the squabbling which had broken out. He didn't even pause when passing the Woodsman's shack, even though Simon made the most piteous mewing noises as he stood rusted in spot. "Too many late night movies, Sandburg," Blair admonished himself. "From now on you watch nothing but CNN." The Yellow Brick Road wound through a spooky woods, towering apple trees spanned the way, their branches drooping over the path, casting baleful shadows across it. Blair felt his heartbeat speed up despite the stern talking to he gave himself. He knew what waited in here....oh, shit! It was stuck in his head!!! Lions and Tigers, and Bears - oh, my!! Lions and Tigers, and Bears - oh my!!! 

"No, please, make it stop," he pleaded, but the voice inside his head kept at it, repeating, repeating, repeating in an endless litany of that most dreaded, but catchy, of lines. And then the skipping started again. Skipping and chanting, chanting and skipping, over and over until.....he kicked the Cowardly Lion's ass, telling himself he'd apologize to Stephen Ellison the next time he saw him. The horrible clatter inside his head died as he climbed a hill and there below him like a glittering mirage in the middle of a desert, lay the Emerald City! 

Knowing Jim would open a can of Whup-Ass on him if he dallied, the trek through an endless poppy field proved harmless and before he knew it, Blair was hitting on the blond at the Wash & Brush-up Co. and betting on the Horse Of A Different Color. He wandered the streets, immersing himself in the indigenous peoples' traditions, charmed by the local customs. He vowed someday to write a paper on trauma induced fantasies, but continued nevertheless to seek someone who could help him get an audience with the Wizard and get him back to Ellison's side where he belonged. 

Fate and TPTB proved the two forces which finally provided the opportunity he'd  
been looking for, setting some demented evil plan into motion. High above the Emerald City something swirled within the clouds. Slowly, words woven from smoke, took shape in the sky. SURRENDER DOROTHY SANDBURG! Amid the denizens of the city panic arose, people scurried from their homes, pointing skyward, though Blair later found out that was because Demographia's catsuit had split and they thought they were witnessing a lunar eclipse. He followed the crowd to a enormous door guarded by a man who, after a few moments conversation, Blair suspected of depriving some village of their Idiot. 

"Just go home," the man ordered, "the Mighty Oz has the situation well in hand." Well, maybe he did, but Blair was on a mission: he was getting out of Dodge! 

"I want to see the Wizard," he told the doorman. He fished into his pocket and brought out the ID Jim had provided him with, flashing it so that any unofficial status didn't enter the discussion, "I'm Sandburg with the DEA and I need some answers about that field of poppies growing in the Wizard's yard." The flustered guard quickly ushered him inside and pointed the way to the Wizard's sanctum sanctorum. As he walked along the seemingly endless corridor, Blair had time to think. He found himself wondering just what he'd gotten into, what his partner and the best friend he'd ever had was doing without him, but most of all he found himself wondering just who the hell decorated things in Oz? The Wizard's humble abode, like everything else in the Emerald City was, let's face it - green. Oh sure, you could get technical and point out the seafoams, the mints, the olive drabs, but on the whole the place looked like the inside of an army locker. Martha Stewart would have had a stroke - and then come up with a clever idea for using the bedpan as a centerpiece. 

At the end of the mesmerizing monochromatic hallway, he passed into the dwelling place of Oz's magical maven, again not a pretty sight. Tongues of fire shot up like fiery geysers, licking the air. Sandburg hung back, not only from the flames but from the big, giant head looming just in front of him. In his travels, Sandburg had met a unique collection of people and each group had their own proper form of greeting. He hesitated, unsure weather to bow, stick out his tongue or bump bellies. Of course, the Wizard's lack of a body made bumping bellies a bit tricky, but he'd try anything once. The question became a moot point when a particularly rude belch of flames nearly set his head on fire and a deafening voice demanded, "You dare to disturb the All Powerful Oz?" 

"Look, man," Blair said, "I know your, like, super busy teaching the Munchkins songs, and repairing the Yellow Brick Road and everything, but I need to get home to Jim. See, he's a Sentinel and I'm....." 

"The Great and Powerful Oz knows all!" The Wizard bellowed, nearly knocking Sandburg off his feet. "You will soon be reunited with your Sentinel," the wizard assured him, loudly. "But first you must prove your worth by performing a small task." 

"A small task?" Blair swallowed the dryness in his throat, "uh, what kind of task?" 

"Bring me the insignia from Demographia's chest," the giant head commanded, 

"and when you do I will send you back to Kansas....er, Cascade." 

"I'll do it," Blair vowed. "I'll bring back the insignia. I'll save Oz from the evils slowly eroding the very fabric of this society. I pledge not to return until Damographia has been vanquished and I've found a decent interior decorator to help these people!" Riding the tide of self-righteousness, Blair set about getting himself kidnapped by the villainous vamp. Getting kidnapped was something Blair knew how to do \- quite well. In fact, he had proven time and time again just how easy he could be kidnapped, not to mention drugged, shot, knocked unconscious, and generally roughed up. Stuffing the Ruby Notebook into a new backpack furnished by the Oz Chamber of Commerce (chartreuse, naturally), he set out along the Yellow Brick Road heading towards the spooky woods just over the hill. A signpost broke the ground like a skeletal finger pointing; Pfeiffer - .9, DiResta - 1.2, Mercy Point - .6, U.PN. - somewhere south of Hell and sinking fast. He'd barely gotten passed the sign when the sky began to darken like the approach of a storm. Looking up, Blair could make out curious shapes drawing nearer, their shrill cries echoing madly. When they had come close enough to identify, he found himself staring at a sight you don't see everyday. At least not unless you lived in a world where a battalion of beautiful, red-haired women with wings sprouting from their backs, flew through the sky. And being how until about three hours ago he hadn't, Blair considered his options and took the most logical of them. 

Sandburg ran. He ran like the wind. He ran like Kincaid, Quinn, and David Lash had banded together to form Psychos For the Eradication of Sandburg League but in reality he was no match for airborne attack. Blair found himself scooped up like the flavor of the month at Baskin-Robbins and plunked down inside the walls of a futuristic looking castle. The thing rose from the rocks like a spaceship and the doors hissed open before you got to them. Demographia's all male guards leered at the flying vanguard which had deposited him in their midst before raising their pointy weapons in his direction. All together it was creepy and Blair had to struggle against the temptation to flee before completing his mission. One of the winged demons stepped forward, peering at him with undisguised lust in her pale blue eyes. For an instant Blair knew what one of those Wonder Burgers must feet like when Jim was in a junk food mood. 

"There'll be none of that, Cassie. This one is much too special for a Winkie like you," Demographia roared at her subordinate. She swatted the creature aside like a bug and walked completely around Blair. "Well, well," she purred in his ear, "it seems the mouse has been caught by the cat." Her hand trailed over his chest, accidentally touching the Ruby Notebook he had clutched in his arms. Her scream nearly deafened him. "I should have known," she ranted, "the only way I can get the Notebook is with your death." 

Blair backed away, wanting to put as much distance between himself and this demented woman who really thought only death could separate him from a mere notebook - it wasn't even a Mead product. "Uh, look," he said, "let's talk about this." But Demographia looked beyond talking. Her impressive chest heaved with heightened emotion, her eyes were like lasers searing away his flesh as she stalked forward. Blair found himself pressed against the wall, unable to move left or right for the massed creatures at Demographia's command and faced by the woman herself. In an act of total desperation, Sandburg raised the Notebook high above his head and brought it down with a mighty crash. Fortunately, Demographia was a cheapskate who didn't trust her employees, she had installed vending machines to curtail the Winkies pilfering food from the castle's kitchen. Blair's dire action slammed all the Rice Krispie Treats to the front of the glass, and the additional weight on an already wobbly front leg, caused the heavy machine to topple over. Everyone froze as the massive machine crashed to the floor. 

Demographia screeched, "what a world, what a world! Who would have thought.... Ooof!" Splat! Sandburg stared at the vending machine with two shiny legs sticking out and thought Justice had been served and appropriately; Demographia had been killed by a corporate mentality serving a select section of the populus. 

"You've killed......" 

Blair stopped the winged Winkies and the 18 - 34 year old males before they could break into song, "yeah, yeah, Ding Dong, Demographia is dead. We got it. Now, I just need this," he snatched up the insignia which had pooped off her chest and rolled under a chair. Clutching the Notebook he slipped away, leaving the winged wonders and the clueless claudes to figure out how they were going to manage without being ordered around. 

This time skipping down the Yellow Brick Road, Sandburg felt so elated the possibility of someone seeing him skip didn't even phase him. He even began to sing - loud and off-key. The delusion was almost at an end! Soon, he would click his heels together three times and wake up in his own room. Unless, when he woke up in his own room, he opened the door and the whole thing started over again....No, he wouldn't think about that. He would hand over the insignia and the Wizard would screw up the hot air balloon and then Megan would do the whole "the magic was in you all along" scene and he'd be back in Cascade. 

Unfortunately reality and blunt force induced episodes don't always jive. Surprisingly, the Powerful Wizard of Oz turned out to be his own mother, Naomi Sandburg. "Oh, Sweetie," she cooed, "I was just exploring my inner feelings of ambition and domination." His smile followed her as she sailed away over the verdant houses still searching for the answers. With great expectations, and high hopes the internal bleeding han't been so severe that Jim had donated all his organs before he got a chance to use them again, Blair turned to face Megan's nifty pink glob. 

"Sorry, Sandy," Megan apologized sheepishly, "I've been recalled. I'm being sent to England, I've drawn Sherwood Forest duty. The only good thing about it is the wardrobe," she confided, "all leather." Megan waved her magical wand, which looked suspiciously like a Colt .45 cover in gold glitter, and the pink ball gown turned into a leather micro-mini, thigh high boots and a sword. She left him with a quick kiss on the cheek and catapulted herself skyward with a Xena like yell. Emerald City's denizens also departed, calling farewell and turning off the lights as they hurried to their homes. Blair found himself standing all alone in Oz's capital city with only the echo of tiny little feet ringing in the darkness and the smell of rainbow colored horse poop for company. 

"Hello?" he called but no one answered, not even the chair. "Okay, Sandburg," he told himself, "you can figure this out, you've seen the movie about a hundred times. What was it?" For several minutes he stood motionless, running the plot of the movie through his head. "She learned she shouldn't go looking for happiness because if it isn't in her own backyard, she didn't need it. Is that it?" he asked the darkened sky. "Is it that my happiness is in my own backyard and I don't need to look any further?" The sky remained silent except for an occasional comet burp passing overhead. Sandburg gave up, pacing back and forth it wasn't until he tripped over the backpack he'd discarded and fell flat on his face that the answer came to him. "Eureka!" he shouted, immediately stunned that such a corny expression had burst from his literate lips. "The Ruby Notebook! I just have to....what? tap it three times?" He tried various methods of using it to get himself home - tapping it, dropping it, swinging it over his head but it wasn't until he decided to open it that Blair had any success. 

He dropped his gaze to the page, drawn first to the ornate lettering for its beautiful craftsmanship more than its message. Slowly, the letters resolved into words and the words into sentences. Brows drawn together as if he worked to decipher Linear B instead of simple old American, Blair forced the words to have meaning, something his mind could grasp, clutch, hold on to and never let go some thing like..... "A Guide belongs beside his Sentinel." 

The sensation of movement, a whistling in his ears, and Blair knew he had done it right. He was going home. He flung open his arms, embracing the world he knew and the world embraced him in return - it embraced him like Aunt Bertha had done on his one and only trip to her house when he was ten years old. Sandburg gasped for breath as it rushed from his lungs in a whoosh Bertha would have been proud to have caused. Sometimes when you embrace the world you should remember to wear body armor. 

"Easy, buddy," a warm voice cautioned, "just lie still, Chief." 

"Jim?" Blair blinked, and tried to focus on the blurry image hovering over him. "Are you alright?" 

"I should be asking you that, Sandburg," Jim said. "You're the one who took a header off the curb. Jeez, Blair, I told you I was on my way, what the hell were you doing?" 

"On your way?" Sandburg brushed away the hand probing the tender spot on his forehead, "I thought you were in trouble. I was trying to get to you. I accidentally killed Villainous Valentine and the people were so grateful, but I ended up in a world run by the evil U.P.N. and I didn't know when I'd get to see you again. I kept telling everyone I have to get to Jim, he needs me but Demographia wanted my Ruby Notebook and Mom was a wizard. She's always been interested in Wicca, but this was way more intense....." 

Whoa, Chief," Jim warned. "You took a nasty blow to the head. I'm taking you to the hospital." 

"I'm alright, Jim," Blair assured his partner. Ellison helped him to his feet, careful not to release him until Blair seemed steady. Blair soaked up the warm from the embrace and the affectionate gaze which locked with his. "I just needed to get back to you," he said so softly Jim actually had to lean just that much closer. Something flickered in Ellison's blue eyes, making them seem very warm and gentle. Blair couldn't resist, he reached up and laid his hand along Jim's cheek. "I'm home now and I'm never going away." Time stretched, holding them in place as the rest of the world swirled around them and then a car horn somewhere blared, breaking the spell and Ellison was pulling him towards the truck. 

"Come on," Jim urged. "You're getting wet. Let's go home." Suddenly, Blair decided the rain wasn't so cold, and his advisory board wasn't so stupid, and the world wasn't so cruel. Jim kept an arm around him as he steered Blair to the Ford. He climbed into the truck's warm cab and looked over at his partner. 

"There's no place like home," Blair whispered. Ellison shot him a look but didn't say anything. It felt good to be home and, barring another blow to the head, Blair knew he'd never leave again. 

End 


End file.
